Category: flash fiction

Cancer stuff

An update of sorts

I’ve written a few times about having cancer, but nothing for a while. I think last update was when I was about to have treatment, which was back end of last year now. You can read about that here.

Anyway, I had treatment and then waited. I recuperated at home for a while, but on the whole it went pretty well. I took a few months of work, wore pyjamas a lot, drank many litres of water a day (to help flush the radiation of something like that)and waited. I had Brachytherapy, which is not particularly nasty on the body. It doesn’t make your hair fall out or any such thing – though I did shave my head because I thought it would be funny. Apparently I need to grow up because I did like seeing some peoples reactions.

Apparently I am also a massive dickhead.

Anyway, mostly I am just waiting and waiting now. I have tests every 6 months, and the numbers are looking good. I cannot go in an MRI machine now as my prostate is full of around 100 radioactive pellets which would be ripped out by the electromagnets – which sounds ghastly, right?

The long and short of it is that I don’t have to have any more treatment as it stands, which is fab news, and eventually I will hopefully hit the numbers I need to in my PSA tests and all will be declared well.

So mostly I don’t think about it much right now, other than to still want to remind all and sundry that if you are 50 and have a prostate then you need to get checked regularly. Seriously, just do it, it might well save your life or the life of someone you love…

Do it!

Darla

Flash fiction kinda stuff…

This is in response to my own prompt. The pics below were the inspiration and the prompt title was “Darla”

Prompt Here!

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Darla was born in that timeless perineum of vague uncertainty and half eaten boxes of chocolates that occupies the days between Christmas eve and New years day. A place where time marches to the unfathomable beat of a dozen drunken drummers all attempting to play synchronised opening beats to Phil Collins’ ‘In the air tonight’ whilst being chased by killer clowns demanding they hurry up and get to the good bit.

As a large proportion of the world lurched between one bout of searing indigestion to the next, Darla came screaming into the world, perfectly pink and with a dark shock of hair that her mother claimed was surely from the gods, as she herself was blonde. The midwife’s suggestions that it was surely on the father’s side were dismissed out of hand as Darla’s mother insisted to the contrary as there was the small matter of an unwavering assertion that she had never slept with anyone to allow her to conceive. But who is going to listen to a teen mother with a tendency towards tie dye and tarot? No one, that is how many. Precisely no one at all.

And it was with that unwavering belief in her divine conception that Darla grew up. It did not make for easy friendships, whether she professed her beliefs from the rood tops or whispered it in darker corners was irrelevant, it simply followed her without the need for any effort on her part. As they bobbed along on the ebb and flow of life their past was impossible to completely leave behind, regardless of which small town they were soon packing up from or washing ashore on.

And it was in one of those small towns, which shall remain nameless as it is of interest to only for those flotsam and jetsam of humanity who found themselves floundered there, that Darla found herself when the end came. Or perhaps, when the end came for her.

In those final moments, most things burned and many other things collapsed. A third lot of things exploded into a sparkling cascade of death whilst everything not in categories one, two or three tended to whimper into oblivion with scant resistance. Had it not been so terrifying and cataclysmic it might have even been beautiful.

Darla took a deep breath and pulled her satchel across her shoulder. The skies crackled and spat like embers whipped by the wind, and she thought about her mother, and the stories of how she came from the gods. It had all been too much for mum, and she wouldn’t miss this place or these people.

It was time to leave, they would be here for her soon.

Dad was on his way…

Last night – 101 word challenge

A 101 word post challenge

“So this is it then?” Clarke asked.

“Yes” the voice replied, “this time tomorrow it’ll all be over.”

“For everyone?”

“Everybody Clarke, this is how it ends, I told you that.”

“After all we’ve achieved though?”

The voice paused. “I think perhaps you overestimate man’s achievements.”

“If you ask me it’s a real waste,” Clarke said pointing to the ribbon of fire that filled the sky before him. “Just look at that sunset.”

“That’s the sun about to engulf the planet Clarke” the voice said quite calmly.

“Oh yeah, right,” Clarke replied.

“Now go home and say goodbye,” the voice said.

Muchies – 101 word challenge

101 words to conjour up an image of some sort…

Granville sat back, chemical pleasure coursing through his veins.

“Food” he thought grabbing a large bag of crisps pushing handfuls of day glow orange goodness into his mouth.

“Oh so good” he said as his mind did a triple somersault and the television turned into a Shetland pony. “Soooo good”.

Handful after handful he shovelled into his cavernous mouth until they were all gone, his fingers thick with their dust.

“Eat them” shouted the Shetland mounting a mermaid that had 5 minutes earlier been a coat rack.

“Then join us” she said winking.

Granville grinned, opened his mouth and bit down…

Denial – Room 101

101 words

These used to be 101 words. Sometimes they still are, like this one. Sometimes not. They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time. Mostly though they are just whatever…

The sea of smiling faces turned as the doors opened slowly, the first strains of the organ playing.

She was a vision in white but all he could feel was rage. Rage at the thing inside her, the thing that bound him to her. Rage at how they valued nothing but money, and who saw him as merely another thing to be possessed.

She smiled at her sister as she approached, another vacuous thing living only to please their rich daddy. “I should choke her too,” he thought to himself smiling.

The music stopped as she took his hand.

“You look beautiful darling.”


You look beautiful

The In-between – Part 1 of 31

Where lots of things start and end

So throwback Friday is apparently a thing. I can’t believe it’s 5 years ago now, but in 2018 I did what ended up being almost a book’s worth of writing in a month. It started with this tiny little snippet in response to a prompt. I keep thinking that I need to go back to it and rewrite it and get it into the book that it could or should have been. I might do that…

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Okay so I’m doing M’s prompts and going to try and do a full month as one long story with no planning. The first was titled ‘The Inbetween’ so thats the name of the story. Each prompt is only meant to take a few minutes. Let’s see how it goes.

I’m not sure what I am anymore. I know I’m dead, I remember that all too well, but it was hardly the significant finale I was expecting.

There were no pearly gates or lights to head towards, and neither was there fire nor brimstone nor the anguished gnashing of teeth – something Mrs Henderson next door would most certainly be disappointed about given her insistence that one day my wicked ways would most certainly be repaid in true Old Testament fashion.

The way she always looked at me when she said it I’m pretty sure she meant buggery, she just had that look of a woman who feared buggery above all things. Her husband was a big man, so that may have explained it.

So alas Mrs Henderson I am afraid there is a distinct lack of buggery wherever it is that I am, though there are rather a lot of us here in-between who are somewhat in need of an answer as to just what is going on.

Part 2 is here

Stars – Room 101

quickie for u

101 words. Ish…

“You smell like strawberries,” Carl said smiling, running his hand through her hair.

Helen’s heart raced being so close to him, lying in the grass, head on his chest. They’d only been together for a few months but she’d never felt like this before.

He raised a hand and pointed to a cluster of stars. “See there, straight up from that tree, the three stars in a line? That’s Orion’s Belt.”

“Where did you learn about that?” she asked, sighing.

“My dad used to take us out camping as kids, he loved the stars.” He said wrapping his arms around her.

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I know, no twist or anything macabre or weird or twisted or offensive. I’m half way through this challenge I think and thought I would make the lack of a twist the twist. I could have had him be an alien, or murder her or have a satellite fall on them or worse but some days, it’s just nice to be nice 😊

Jupiter Glow – 101 words

Jupiter…you beauty

101 words. Sometimes a few more. Sometimes a start, or an end, or a middle…

No matter how hard they try they can never prepare you for the loneliness of space. The fellows in the white coats test you and explore the extent to which your mind can be pushed. but they really have no idea what true isolation will do to you.
You try to retain a degree of positivity but there comes a point when you lose all hope, and for me that point was when I flashed past Mars with my pod still accelerating. Mars was my last hope you see, my salvation. If anyone could have survived the Orion onslaught it was those tough bastards on the red planet, but with my emergency beacon out and navigation systems shot I simply sailed by into the inky black of space.
I doubt it mattered though because there were no signs of life on my scanners. In fact, there had been no sign in any quadrant since I jettisoned at the battle of Ceres Outpost. Whilst I had enough supplies to keep me going for a few months – assuming the hydro-recycle unit on my suit keeps functioning – I doubt that I will make it through the asteroid belt to see the glow of Jupiter.
It’s a shame really, because my god she is a sight to behold…

Harvest – Room 101

another quickie

101 words. Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end. Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.

“Are they ready?” Drax asked as they passed silently through space in the shadow of the moon.

“They are” replied Altama. She spread her tentacles and began to purr as she bathed in the glorious warmth of the sun.

“Anything to be concerned over?”

She laughed and watched him unfurl, his flesh pulsing iridescent as he warmed after so long in the cold of deep space.

“No. They are ready to be harvested.”

So many lifetimes had passed in getting here, and now he felt suddenly alive. Suddenly hungry.

“Good” Drax replied as he turned towards Earth. “It’s time to feed.“

Date night – 101 words

A quickie before bed

101 words. Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end. Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.

With rain running down her face Maria smiled as she remembered that first meeting. Mother said that she’d know when she met the one. Mother was right.

She loved his charm, that assured way he walked over and god, that confidence. Her pulse still raced at the thought, the way he looked at her with those dark eyes and the things she felt when he placed his hand unexpectedly on her arm. He was intoxicating and too delicious to resist.

“I wonder if he has a brother?” She thought, tipping the final shovel of soil over his face and walking away…

Waiting…101 word challenge

101 words to try create a wee something…

101 words. Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end. Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.

Night fell, the full moon streamed through the slits in the ragged curtains. Jessica pulled the blankets over her face and waited. Adrenaline coursed through her, fear gripping her tight as she picked out cautious footsteps crunching through the coarse gravel outside her window.

“She’s inside,” she heard Monsignor whisper.

“We need to hurry,” came a reply. It was her father.

Floorboards creaked as she watched the moonlight crawl slowly up the bed towards her. Her heartbeat slowed, her eyes narrowed and she lowered the blanket, smiling.

“On three,” came her father’s voice outside the door.

Jessica was ready in two…

Another life

Some things are best forgotten

Amos sat in the old rocker, looking out across the open fields in front of the farm house. He watched wisps of clouds dancing across the sky and jet trails slowly dissolving into the blue and remembered a time, long ago now, when he was more than the frail old man now living out the last of his days watching the seasons pass from his window. Snippets of another life he was no longer sure were even his.

“You see that, girl?” he said, looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “You see those vapour trails? That was me once.”

The small yellow bird cheeped almost as if in response.

His eyes weren’t what they once were but he could still make out the feint outline of the city in the distance and he watched as shuttles, from this distance mere specks, took off and headed upwards towards the east pacific low orbit station.

There was a flash of silver as the sun caught the side of a large long haul transporter rising slowly upwards and he remembered, not at all fondly, the early days long before anti-grav when they had to strap you to a rocket just to get you into orbit. He didn’t miss the take offs, but he each landing was fresh in his mind as the day he had made them.

“Good times,” he mumbled to himself, rolling a small red rock no larger than a thumbnail between his fingers. A memento of his last trip to Mars smuggled home, and his most prized possession. He rocked slowly and pulled a blanket over his knees. He looked at it and his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. He had kept it locked away for decades but today, today he wanted to hold it. It was softer to the touch than he remembered, perhaps from being kept in the old cigarette tin in the dresser for so long.

“I went there you know,” he told his canary. He had told her uncountable times but he didn’t know that, not anymore. His once sharp mind was now a lottery when it came to the things he remembered and the things he did not. “I saw sunrise over the Martian planes, long before we stopped going there after what happened, and trust me, it was a sight to behold. Miles of red, like a sea of blood stretched out before us.”

The canary cleaned her feathers, then hopped down to the bottom of the cage.

“Oh yes,” he continued proudly, fragments of past glories now darting about his mind. “I was a real American hero. We even had a parade in thirty seven.”

The canary chirped again, and then for a second time, as Amos suddenly stiffened, a look of pain etched across his face. His right arm reached for his chest and the small rock fell from his hand. Amos gasped as the bird continued to call loudly. Amos was now in full cardiac arrest. His hands clenched into fists as the life ebbed slowly from his body, his eyes glazing over, and with a final gasp, Amos McCartney drifted into nothing.

And with that final gasp, his body now relaxed the chair rocked forwardm crushing the small rock fragment. Red dust smeared on the carpet beneath the runner of the old rocking chair. The canary chirped wildly, hopping up to the small wooden perch and then back to the cage floor, but there was nobody to hear it or heed it’s warnings.

Slowly, spreading out from the spot under the chairm a red stain began to creep. It first engulfed the chair and Amos, turning them a dark ochre red, and moments later the flesh and plaid blanket on his knees suddenly collapsed into dust. The canary flapped wildly, flying around the small cage panicked.

Outwards, it then began to spread, devouring all before it and turning everything it touched to ocre dust, and in a moment, the chirps of the canary were silenced…

Prompts – Foolish

Just a few words with no real reason

Going to try do prompts this month. Kind of stream of consciousness stuff as I don’t have time for all that planning or editing lark. Am aiming for about 1000 words a day. Let’s see how it goes. They may be dross, but sometimes it is just fun to write and see what comes out without too much thinking…

First up is Fandango’s One Word Challenge.. The inspirational word was ‘Foolish’.

Ok so I cant find his post now.

Go see his site instead. Its pretty cool and full of loads of stuff.

https://fivedotoh.com/

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Dawn crept slowly across the horizon, silver slivers of light devoured the darkness as the sun fought to escape the prison of the thick clouds that hung low in the sky. The incessant crash of waves on the shale beach reminded Alyssa of the endless barbs in his words that tore and pulled at the threads of her sanity for as long as she could remember.   

Certainly nothing seemed to exist before him, with his sweet charms and promises of happy ever afters. Nothing ever mattered since that moment when she walked away from all she had known and gave herself to the thought of those tomorrow’s so full of love and life.

“If you love me, “ she could still hear him saying. And she did, God how she loved him.

“Always and forever,” she would say, even when her mouth was filled with the sting of metallic and the bruises turned yellow beneath the long sleeves and high necked blouses.

Standing here now, the waves lapping at her feet, rounded pebbles rolled back into the waves as the sea retreated to safety around her.

The wind was cold as it danced around her bare legs, tugging at her long dark hair as it cascaded down across her shoulders, and was then suddenly whipped around her face as the wind gusted in from across the bay.

High above a single gull circled, and she swore that she heard him in the waves calling her to come to him. Alyssa looked back up the beach as the pale morning light played off the high cliffs behind her, and she watched as her clothes were tossed up and blown into the thick gorse that lined the edge of the beach

“It hurts, “ she heard him say, “deep inside, it hurts so much.”

Alysssa clutched her stomach, feeling his pain, a smile breaking out across her lips.

“You did this, “ he shouted as the wind gusted, white horses topping the waves as they crashed onto the shore and pulled at her legs.

She could taste it on her lips, and his lips on hers, both bitter and deadly

This was his place, his refuge, his evermore, and now only the rage of the storm remained where once he lived so violently.

Prompts – Venue

Not sure where this came from…

Going to try do prompts this month. Kind of stream of consciousness stuff as I don’t have time for all that planning or editing lark. Am aiming for about 1000 words a day. Let’s see how it goes. They may be dross, but sometimes it is just fun to write and see what comes out without too much thinking…

First up is Fandango’s One Word Challenge.. The inspirational word was ‘Venue’.

FOWC with Fandango — Venue

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Snow fell slowly and settled on the cold hard ground as the moon climbed high above the city, her bright lights and pulsating neon signs silent in the distance. Clad in steepling steel and concrete, she was a cruel mistress, wringing every ounce of good intention from those she took to her breast, and making them bend to her irresistible will just to survive.

The clang of steel on rock rang out and a heavy set man, draped in a thick dark coat, cursed as he shovelled reluctant clods of frozen earth into a growing pile.

“Next time maybe you bring two shovels,“ he said, breathing heavily and peeling off his coat, throwing it to a smaller man who was leaning up against the side of a battered 1972 Ford Pinto drawing deeply on a cigarette. The orange glow lit up his sharp features and deep set eyes.

“Hey, watch the wheels, “ he said, catching the coat and placing it on the roof of the car. The Pinto had been a thing of beauty once, long ago, with her smooth curves, emerald green paint and heavy steel fenders.

Now, the only good thing about her was the size of her trunk. Easily big enough for a grown man. Two at a push.

“Shuddup Benny, I don’t see why I always have to dig the holes.”

“Romeo – you know full well that is on account of my back,” said Benny. “Never been the same since Krakow, you remember that, right? Saved your life in that shit storm. Twice as I recall. Remember the place – lovely little venue for a shootout.”

Romeo continued to shovel the cold dirt. “He still alive in there?” he asked.

Benny took out his keys and opened the trunk of the Pinto and a cascade of profanity spilled out into the night, he then slammed it closed again, locking it once more.

“Yup,“ said Benny, finishing the cigarette and tossing the glowing butt into the hole. “Alive and kicking. Easiest ten thousand we’ve ever made.”

Romeo looked up In mid shovel.

“What?” protested Benny, a mischievous grin on his face. “Come on, keep digging, it’s cold out. Shallow will be fine.”

Romeo exploded. “Its Fucking frozen, FROZEN. You wanna try?”

“What you suggesting,” said Benny, “Think we should just let him go. Leave him to wander off, leave him to the cayotes? All because the ground’s a bit frozen?”

Romeo paused for a moment.

“You’re right, he’s gonna get what’s coming to him, he ain’t getting no favours. He’s a piece of shit and I wouldn’t jizz on him if he was on fire, he needs to …”

“Mother fucking what did you just say?” said Benny bursting into fits of laughter.

“That he has to pay?”  

“Sweet baby Jesus, no, what you talking about jizzing on him?” said Benny, almost bent double, tears streaming down his face.

“It’s a saying,” said Romeo, brow furrowed and feeling even more annoyed. “I wouldn’t jizz on him if he was on fire…”

Benny fell back, collapsed against the Pinto.

“Piss, “ he said between gasps and laughter. “You wouldn’t PISS on him. It’s piss”

Romeo leaned on his shovel, glaring at Benny.

“It is not,“ he said, “It’s jizz. It’s about not wasting jizz.”

Benny creased up, barely able to breathe.

“Why would you…fuck Romeo…” was all Benny could manage.

“Piss isn’t a waste,“ Romeo continued, quite seriously. “No one cares about wasting piss. Throw piss on a fire and it might smell but that’s not a sin like wasting jizz. I’m a good Catholic boy Benny, we don’t waste our jizz like you protestants. Especially not on things on fire.”

Benny slid down the side of the car onto the ground, hysterical and clutching his stomach.

“Oh just give me the fucking keys,“ Romeo insisted. “Where’s the gun. I’ll do everything shall I…”  

Prompts – Gather

Waffling away as best I can in July.

Going to try do prompts this month. Kind of stream of consciousness stuff as I don’t have time for all that planning or editing lark. Am aiming for about 1000 words a day. Let’s see how it goes. They may be dross, but sometimes it is just fun to write and see what comes out without too much thinking…

First up is Fandango’s One Word Challenge.. The inspirational word was ‘Gather’.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/79388113/posts/4786274648

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Beyond the satellites they gathered, glistening hulks of steel and wrath, bristling with a thousand glowing barrels, ready to blast and pulse their way to victory over the unsuspecting planet below.

The Jengati had arrived first, a dozen of their most ferocious Class A ‘Blastemup’ cruisers settling into orbit, the moon glancing off of the endless angry angles that made up the ship which left you wondering which way was up and where the threat would come from. Everywhere was the answer, the threat came from everywhere.

Next to arrive was an advance party of Zex War fighters, smaller in size, but just as ferocious. They zipped and darted around the Jengati fleet, and there was a moment when it seemed that they would engage each other before sense prevailed. After a short lunch consisting mostly of Paraxial death-beer they both decided that sharing the spoils was not going to be a problem given just how much there was to go around, and that they all now needed a lie down to recover from lunch and shooting and explosions was only going to make the inevitable hangover even worse.

By the time the Balorians and the Holy Upper Order of Sleen turned up, things were getting a little cramped. The airwaves were filled with chatter and bluster of the fleet commanders, each staking a claim of this newly discovered planet for their empire. Some needed the natural resources, others made claims for colonisation settlements, and others wanted the population for the slave markets – a new species always created a huge buzz on the sub-net. And generally each quite enjoyed a spot of shooting and blasting too, so if that could be thrown in then that would be just great and thank you very much.

Admiral Blaarg of the Jengati sent out an all ships broadcast to any craft on the pan-planet frequency. Vid screens flickered across the com decks of the gathered ships, and his bulbous form flashed across the screens. His jade green uniform hugged his lumpy body, from which two stumpy arms protruded and they were topped with were a close approximation of fingers which were as close to being folded in the area where one might imagine his lap to have been. Protruding eyes sat wide upon his face, and a broad wide mouth sat uncomfortably just where a nose might have been. There was definitely space for a nose, but it seemed evolution had other ideas and apparently thought it far too much effort and had given up at eyes and a mouth, thinking that good enough of a job and had promptly proceeded to making several internal organs surplus to biological requirements, but leaving them in place anyway, just for giggles.

Blaarg coughed, and positioned himself squarely in his chair.

“To all assembled vessels, this is admiral Blaarg of the Jengati empire. We stake first claim and discoverers obligations in the name of our peoples and planets.”

There was a moments pause as the assembled craft waited for the translator circuits to process.

“Point of order,“ came a high pitched reply from Fleet Marshall Elver of the Balorians. “The planet was discovered by the Aquillan council, and not Jengati. The full and proper study was completed, all assets logged, all lifeforms catalogued, and all appropriate documentation completed – in triplicate. On that basis a fair and proper distribution of resources should be made equitably between all parties arriving and logging their intentions with one Aquillan cycle.”

“The study was completed when chaired by the Jengati at that cycle,” insisted Blaarg abruptly. “And on that basis we demand that…”

Bedlam broke out across the comms.

The Balorian grinned at the cacophony, the thick rows of teeth deep set in his cavernous mouth showing his pleasure. His scales flushed pink and blue, iridescent in the reflected light of the comms panel.

Blaarg thundered about galactic charters and consequential responsibilities written in charter. The Holy Upper Order of Sleen’s Grand Master informed everyone that would listen that he would happily inform the Jengati where to shove their charter, upon which the Jengati suggested that was hardly speech worthy of a Holy Order. In turn the Holy Order duly started to inform Jengati that the wrath of the sons of a thousand worlds would be unleashed upon them.

However, before anything was able to be unleased on anyone, there was a short series of intermittent beeps followed what sounded like the grand opening bars of an opera. Horns blared and a heavy drum thundered. It was likely the sort of opera where love is about to be declared by a tight trousered lothario, which is most certainly rebuffed, and dramatic angst and consternation in song is to follow.

And angst and consternation seemed to be quite suddenly painted on the faces collected ship commanders.

“You have go to be shitting me,“ exclaimed the Zex group captain, his head in his hands.

Blaarg had muted his microphone but could be seen on the vid screen gesticulating wildly and becoming decidedly and quite visibly more bulbous as he did so.

The Grand Wizard, commander of the Holy Order fleet straightened himself, sat upright in his chair and pulled opened a comms channel.

“Welcome your emissaries,” he said in a calm and measured voice. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked.

For a while there was nothing as the fleets waited. Once more the operatic music played, tailoring off until there was silence. A logo flashed up across all channels. 3 gold coins against the backdrop of a bright supernova suspended on a set of scales.

“Esteemed lords of the fleets, how convenient it is that we have arrived at this time, “ said a thin sharp voice. “My name is Val-Corvano, and I am the district manager of the Galactic Bank, and we are here to register our interest in the assets of this planet against the debts of your givernments”

Each of the captains sighed, warbled, or choked – whichever was appropriate for the expression of disgust, shock or wild disappointment.

The Grand Wizard muted his comms.

“What is it your eminence?” said the communications chief. “Is there a problem?”

“Accountants, “ said the Grand Wizard, his face forlorn and shoulders drooping. ”Tell the engine room to spin up the light drives, we’re heading home. There’s no fun to be had once the accountants arrive.”

Y

One from the archives, which I have no recollection of writing..

You can listen instead of reading if you prefer.

 

 

Old Walter McDad finds such joy in the sad

The depressed and the rather quite tragic

He would dance with delight if your shoes were too tight

Spilled your tea on your crotch? Oh quite magic!

Caught your knob in your zip? Caused your foreskin to rip?

He would high five in great celebration

Birth defects?  He loves those.  Diabetic? Lost toes?

Well to him they’re such cause for elation

 

Enjoys watching the poor, mocks the sick and what’s more

Steals the cash from the tramps at the station.

Takes a dump on your lawn, tells your kids to watch porn

Big wide grin at your grandma’s cremation

Fingers crossed at the vets they declare that your pets

need to be put to sleep with much haste

Phone the docs and the answer is that you have cancer

He’d take joy, he knows its in poor taste

 

For Walt spends all his days in such terrible ways

Don’t ask why he just does ‘cos he can

At a hundred and one he’d still rodger your mum

He’s a rather quite nasty old man

So watch out and beware at the top of the stair

As he’d gladly push you in the back

You go head over tit and he’d chuckle and sit

Watch you bleed as he enjoys a snack

 

The Breakup – 75 word Story

A few silly words

Brian looked into his wife’s eyes and sighed.

“I’m so sorry it ended like this” he said “I wanted it to work but I realise we want different things.”

Carla said nothing, staring back expressionless.

“I know” Brian continued.  “I know it’s my fault I just…”

Brian paused, he had hoped for something.  Anything.

“Fine, just fine” he said picking up his shovel and tipping soil over Carla’s already stiffening body.  “Silent treatment it is…”

Over and out

a few random words

just waffly bits I’ve been scribbling…

Every day Cal would wake and think that today would be his last. Today, he was right.

With his engines offline he tumbled through space at 30000 miles an hour towards his inevitable destination. He stabbed at the lifeless console hoping to gain control of the ship but it remained unresponsive save for the blink of the life support system.

Peering out of the starboard portal the moon swung slowly and ominously into sight, and just beyond her horizon he saw the Earth he’d left behind and would now never return to.

He then smiled and sat back in his chair. waiting…

Shorts – Kin – Part 2 of 2

It’s something, right? Better than not doing something I suppose. Just about.

Just stuff I am spewing out as I attempt to get into a routine of writing every day (or close at least). Part 1 Here

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The next morning came and went, both men sharing the bed, and Wilson enjoyed a breakfast of toast, Canadian butter, jams and sliced ham left for him on the table where they had drunk together the night before. There was also a small bowl of apples and oranges, and several pastries wrapped in a white napkin which he kept for later, not knowing when or if he would get to eat again.

He then spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon alone, anxiously pacing the room and then flicking through the pages of a small stack of travel magazines he had kept from being thrown away. Bali looked nice, he thought to himself. Quiet. Pretty. He wondered if maybe he could go there? Would anybody know?

He wondered what his other self-had been doing, mindful of the high standards he…they…he set for himself and realised that he had not sync’d, else he would have known. Taking the small device from the bedside table he placed his hand on it and waited. There was the familiar ping, and then…nothing. There was no information from the previous night. No memories, no download. The upload had been successful, and he had assumed that the sync might go both ways but  now it seemed not.

Wilson rationalised the matter away, consoling himself that there was likely never really cause to do a full two-way sync. That wasn’t the process. Not their purpose.

The hours ticked by, and it was soon approaching dinner time, the busiest time of the day. The back and forth of service, of etiquette and the highest standards. Present but not seen in the execution of their intent. He would be alone for some time still, so lay down on the bed, his eyes heavy and the burden of worry a knot in his stomach.

What seemed like only moments later he awoke to the ping of a sync.

“Bali?” said New Wilson standing over him where he lay on the bed. “Really? Nice enough I guess. Pictures certainly looked nice.”

Wilson rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “Where’ve you been? What’s going on? You’ve been to Bali?” he asked.

“Working. I have no idea. And no, you looked at travel brochures, right? “

Wilson bristled. So the sync was one way. “Thanks for the food, “ he said, swinging his legs out of bed and slipping his feet into his slippers. He watched as the man with his face, his life, eyed them and then looked back to him. “What? Something wrong?” he snapped.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No, no I don’t. I don’t want a drink, I want to know what’s going on.”

He watched as two glasses were filled, a full moon creeping from behind thick clouds and illuminating the room as it flooded the room. Wilson sighed, taking the glass. Once more he drank, the warmth filling him. I’m leaving tomorrow.” He said. Both men seemed as surprised as each other to hear the words spill from his lips.

“You can’t.”

“And exactly why can’t I?” Wilson replied. He didn’t really know where he would go or what he would do. He didn’t really know much beyond the confines of the house.

“Because that isn’t what we do. We serve. We wait. We don’t leave.”

Wilson stood suddenly and threw the glass across the room, it hit the wall and shattered. “Bali, I could go to Bali,” he shouted. “I can go anywhere. They’re not coming for me, they’ve forgotten. Something went wrong. I don’t know, I don’t care.”

“How are you going to get to Bali?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, are you not listening?” Wilson’s face was red, pain shot up his leg. He took a deep breath, his eyes glancing to the open cupboard, the rows of clothes inside.

Wilson watched as the man in front of him stammered “You..you..can’t. You just can’t.”

“I fucking can,“ Wilson snapped. Maybe they weren’t as identical as he had thought. They shared so much but perhaps there was a difference, something beyond memories and dna. Something that couldn’t be simply transferred and that made him far more than service and routine and duty. “get out of the way,” he said pushing past his new self. He heard a glass fall to the floor as he headed towards the open cupboard.

“No, wait,“ came a shout, and Wilson felt a hand on his arm. “Wait. They will come.”

Wilson spun around, an arm swinging and connecting the other man across the face. “I’m not waiting, I don’t want to go.” He shouted, watching a trickle of blood as it ran from the mans lip. They weren’t the same, he thought. He wasn’t him. “Don’t try stop me.”

Before the outstretched arm connected with him a second time Wilson lashed out, striking him once more. Pain shot up his leg and into his back and he grunted as a rage filled him and he threw himself past the outstretched arm and both men fell to the floor in a tangle. A trailing leg knocked over the small table where a lamp sat burning, the room plunged into darkness with only the moonlight streaming in as they rolled across the floor, arms flailing, clenched fists flying and the heavy grunts broken by the sounds of knuckle on bone.

As clouds passed over the moon once more, the room was plunged into darkness and Wilson felt fingers around his throat, nails digging into his flesh, and the air being ripped from his lungs as he felt a blow to his stomach. A guttural roar spilled from him as he flailed, thrashing against the weight of the man who was now on top of him.

“You can’t go, “ he said, fingers tightening and pushing Wilson’s head against the floor. “You have to wait”. Wilson didn’t hear anymore after a bloodied fist connected squarely with something hard in the dark, there was a stifled groan and a hiss of escaping breath followed by a thud. And then there was silence.

Steam curled from the cup in the bright morning light that streamed through the tall breakfast room windows. Sugar cubes plinked as they were dropped into the tea, and there was a tinkle of silver spoon on best china saucers.

A man with dark hair and sharp features took the offered cup and smiled.

“Thank you,” he said, placing it on the table next to his unfolded newspaper.

“Will that be all Sir?”

“Yes, thank you Wilson,” the man said taking up the spoon and stirring the tea slowly. “That’s all.”

“Very good sir,” said the man, turning to leave the room. He stifled a wince. “Very good.”